Killing Me Softly
by Autumn Rayne
Summary: Number Seven in the "Ripple of Hope" follow-ups


Number Seven…

**Killing Me Softly**

I wake when the front door closes, alone in my bed with a post-it note stuck to my chest hair. Funny girl. I roll to my side, reaching to turn on the lamp on the night table. As I drop onto my back, I reach carefully for the post-it note. They never really seem to stick to anything, but I don't want to take the chance that this one came from a particularly sticky batch. I pull the note off my chest, releasing a sigh of relief as it comes off cleanly, and turn the green piece of paper in my hands.

"Ben," I read aloud. "Cabbed it back to Lauren's. Thank you for the movie and the popcorn." I smile gently and sit up, turning to look at the clock. Seeing that I have twenty minutes to my normal wake up time, I decide to start my day early. After stifling a yawn, I sigh and run a hand through my hair. "What the hell?" My fingers find something on the top of my head. Carefully, I remove the foreign object, dropping my hand to eye-level. "_Very_ funny girl," I mutter as I look at a second post-it note. "And for the tequila."

I have never been accused of being a light sleeper and I make a mental note never to fall into a drunken sleep around Kate. If she can litter my body with post-its while I am sleeping sober, imagine the damage she could do while I'm in an alcohol-induced slumber.

My eyes wander to the right side of the bed, the side Kate had occupied. It had not taken long for either of us to fall asleep, but in the short time before my eyes closed, I breathed in every second of having Kate in my arms. She had settled quickly on my chest, allowing me to slip my arm under her body and wrap it around her small frame. I cannot lie, holding her like that felt so natural, so comfortable. It really makes me wonder what it would feel like to hold her after a little hanky panky. But, that is a thought I have to push from my head if I want to make it through the workday without spontaneously combusting.

I flip off the comforter and wander through the bedroom to the bathroom. I turn on the light and see my Raiders jersey neatly folded and laying on the vanity. I move to it, taking it in my hands and raising it to my face. It smells like Kate. Her perfume, her shampoo, every scent associated with her body. And now all I can think about is the kiss we shared on my couch. Her cold hands on my chest, her warm lips against mine, the butter, the tequila. _"Well, if I have to kiss you, you know what you have to do? __**You**__ have to enjoy it."_ The way Kate sighed as I slipped my tongue between her lips erased any insecurities I might have had about her reaction to our first kiss. Shock, surprise, what have you, she enjoyed it. And she clearly enjoyed it the second time around, as well.

Until she started thinking about Lea Farran.

It has been a very difficult week for Kate. Her emotional investment in cases makes her an incredible mediator. Each case she handles becomes personal and she fights to make sure her clients receive everything they deserve. But it also puts her in a horrible place when she hits a wall she cannot take down. Like Lea. I'm worried that I may have raised Kate's hopes in offering to further research Lea's case. Maybe we can do something more. But, what if we can't? I really do not want to put either woman through another disappointment.

With a sigh, I turn on the water in the shower and take off my sweatpants and boxers. I can't dwell on Lea's case right now. Not only do I have other cases to get through, but I know Kate will spend the next two weeks doing enough dwelling for the entire firm. Someone needs to be able to keep her grounded when we start our after-hours researching.

I step into the shower, closing the glass door, and let the warm water float over my back. As I lean my head back into the water, I run my hands through my hair, making sure there are no wayward post-its hiding in the thickness of my bed head. I start scrubbing shampoo through my hair and remember the way Kate's fingers felt running over my scalp last night as she sat perched over my lap, pulled tightly against my body by the blanket around her. I think about the way she moaned, returning the kiss between bouts of being conquered. Oh, what I would have given to spend the night slowly conquering the rest of Kate Reed…

I turn to face the handle on the shower wall and turn the temperature to an unhealthy cold.

Since I left my apartment, I have been considering how our two upcoming nights of Lea Farran research may end. And not where Lea is concerned. Where Kate and I are concerned. I have no doubt that both nights will be long, Kate, Leo and myself working well past midnight. Leo will say his goodnights, mumbling something about wanting triple over-time. Once left alone, I will convince Kate to spend the night at my place. "By the time you get to Lauren's and get tucked into bed, it will be time to wake up, Katie," I'll say to her. "Just stay here. You know you're more than welcome." She'll turn down my offer a couple of times before I convince her otherwise. "Maybe I should keep an overnight bag here," she'll joke nervously. "Why? You can borrow another t-shirt." I'll force one awkward exchange after another until I have her in the same place she occupied last night: on my lap, so close to my mouth. I can practically feel the texture of the blanket in my hands as I think about how I will wrap it around the small of her back, pull her hips into mine, and seize her mouth with my own.

Ugh, I certainly hope it doesn't take two weeks to experience that again.

A thought strikes me as the elevator doors open and I move into the Reed and Reed foyer. What if Kate's reaction to my kiss had been simply a need to release the emotional turmoil of the week? What if she was in the 'doesn't mind if I use him' kind of mood she had adopted after the Chernof case? I hop up the stairs, head down as I move past Leo's empty desk. I don't want to know if Kate is here. For some reason, I feel as though seeing her would be a negative answer to my sudden doubts. I close the door to my office and drop my briefcase into the visitor's chair. As I move around to the other side of my desk, I frown, noticing a small block of blue post-its on the blotter, Kate's familiar scribbling adorning the top post-it.


End file.
